


Shadow

by ateventide



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateventide/pseuds/ateventide
Summary: She didn't remember dying. One- Shot.





	Shadow

Just something that rolled around in my head for a little bit. One-Shot!

* * *

She didn't remember dying.

But in the dark recesses of her mind; she knew she had.

**No.**

She didn't remember dying.

_..You are my queen…_

The tremble in his voice. The way the light reflected off his handsome face. The ruins of her enemies around them. The smell of ashes. But it was the look in his brown eyes that stayed with her. After everything. A look she had never seen before. At least not one Jon had ever directed at her. 

Of absolute heartbreak.

_..Now.._

The sting as he slid a knife into her heart. 

_...And always.._

But above all else, what she remembered was..

**_Pain._ **

Yes, pain of his betrayal. Of her broken childhood and shattered ideals. She had tried so hard. Gotten so very close. All she had wanted was a better world. For her and everyone else. A world of fat men, pretty maids and laughing children. 

Was that so _wrong_?

After everything she had _given_?

Everything she had _lost_?

Had she been wrong _all_ _this time_?

Maybe the saying was right after all. That when a Targaryen was born the gods flipped a coin; the world held its breath. And perhaps she had been on the wrong side of the coin. All this time. All along.

_**Fire and Blood** _

These were the words of her house. A house of peace and madness. Two sides of a coin. A contradiction if the Gods and men ever saw one. But through it all; a promise. Death to those who would oppose them. Eternal glory to those would bend the knee. Through her veins was the kings and queens of old. The Blood of Conquerors. Blood of the Dragon. A house of peace and madness. Soaked in betrayal and death. Bathed in serenity and light. 

Had she been _right?_

Had she been _wrong?_

Was she truly her _father's daughter_?

And in the end, had any of it _mattered_?

So, no, Daenerys Targaryen didn't remember dying. 

She remembered the words of her house. Her mother tongue. She remembered pain and loss; over and over again. It was in these moments that she remembered. That even in her darkest of times and in her happiest, she had always believed in one thing. In herself. She was a Targaryen. She was of Old Valyria. The Mother of Dragons. She had walked into the fire and lived. She had freed slaves and crucified the masters. United the Dothraki and burned her enemies. She had razed a city to ash and in the end; murdered by someone she had dared to love.

No, Daenerys Targaryen was Blood of the Dragon..

_Fire and Blood_

_Fire and Blood_

_Fire and Blood_

...and she would rise again.

* * *

...because yes, thats how the story goes in my head! 


End file.
